Heroes of Ulster: Warped
by Dr. Algae
Summary: While seeking a link to Cú Chulainn's past, Rory, Molly and Barghest find themselves drawn into the machinations of an immortal Norman sorcerer... and the cross-hairs of the Redemption Squad.
1. Remscéla

Gargoyles _,_ _co-created by Greg Weisman, is the property of the Walt Disney Company._

 _Special thanks, as always, to Gryphinwrym7, Masterdramon, GregX and BookwyrmPendragon13 for providing beta-reading and feedback._

* * *

 **Nightstone Unlimited, Manhattan, August 18** **th** **1998 A.D.**

"The story is told, though who can say if it be true?" Shari spoke, casually popping a skinned grape into her mouth as alarm klaxons rang throughout the command center.

Thailog loomed over a table-top display of the building's interior. Eyes locked on the tiny red dot that was steadily making its way to the top floor.

Across the chamber, Brentwood sat before a bank of monitors; watching as one by one their feeds abruptly cut to static. "Shock Troopers Three, Five and Six go bye-bye!"

"Of Áine, a great lady of the Sidhe, who offered her love to a great lord among mortal men..." Shari continued nonchalantly.

"Goneril, Regan!" Thailog bellowed.

Two new clones, both sharing Thailog's own coloring but bearing an uncanny resemblance to Angela of the Manhattan Clan, leaped into action. They trained their particle rifles on the reinforced steel door that marked the hidden entrance to the command center.

The chamber echoed with the dull clunk of massive steel locks seemingly moving under their own power.

"Brentwood?" Thailog spoke calmly, only the slightest edge of annoyance in his voice.

"Brentwood not know, Master!" the clone exclaimed. "Can't override!"

"Only to be cruelly betrayed by the man she had loved," Shari concluded sadly.

The steel door slid back as a cloned Shock Trooper stumbled over the threshold, cybernetic implants sparking. Dozens of tiny, vaguely humanoid, shapes crawled all over the clone's body; biting flesh, scratching at armor and gnawing on wires.

The creatures' skin was the color and texture of dried bark. Twig-like arms and legs ended in claw-like brambles. One of the things looked up with eyes like green dew-drops, smiling through a mouth filled with scarlet thorns.

"Pistachio!" it chirped.

Goneril and Regan unleashed a barrage of particle fire. Again and again they fired, not stopping until Shock Trooper and creatures alike had been reduced to an unrecognizable smoking charred mass.

For one long moment, only tense silence filled the command center until...

"Curse and swear Lord Kildare, Fiach will do what Fiach will dare. Now FitzWilliam, have a care," a voice lilted through the smoke. "Fallen is your star, low..."

Its owner was a middle-aged human clad in a thick black overcoat. He stepped gingerly over the smoking remains of the clone, leaning on a slim black cane topped by a silver serpent head.

A low whine filled the command center as Goneril and Regan trained their particle rifles on the intruder's skull.

The invader slowly raised his hands. "In my defense," he spoke softly in a light Irish accent, smiling disarmingly through a short gray-yellow beard. "I did try to make an appointment."

Thailog's eyes burned a dull crimson. "I value my privacy deeply, Mr...?"

"Gerald FitzGerald, Lord Kildare, at your service," the stranger spoke, giving a short bow. "And believe me, I understand completely. Perhaps... we can discuss this over a drink?"

Thailog gave Goneril and Regan a silent nod, causing the two clones to cautiously lower their weapons. "Shari, I believe there's some single-malt whiskey in the liquor cabinet."

"On it, Mr. Thailog," she beamed brightly.

"Sorry about your man back there, by the way." FitzGerald spoke apologetically as he removed a pair of black leather gloves, revealing an iron ring inscribed with Celtic runes upon the fourth finger of his left hand.

"I can always make more." Thailog waved his talons dismissively, taking a seat as he gestured his guest to do likewise. "What brings you here, your Lordship?"

"A mutual acquaintance, I believe," the Irishman answered. "A rather spirited red head?"

"Ah..." Thailog sighed, steepling his talons. "I suppose the fact that you're even here means there's little point in denying it. So, you and Demona are what exactly... old rivals?"

"Old school chums," FitzGerald answered as Shari passed him a glass. "You?"

"Exes," the gargoyle shrugged, sipping his drink.

"Mr. Thailog..." FitzGerald whispered, slowly raising an eyebrow. "You're clearly a far more formidable man than I thought."

Thailog's only response was a slight smirk.

"At any rate," FitzGerald continued. "Over a year ago, Demona stole something very valuable to me; an ancient gigantic boar tusk. I've been trying to track it down ever since."

"Interesting..." the gargoyle mused.

"Mr. Thailog incinerated it," Shari interjected, pouring herself some water.

Thailog shot his assistant a glare. "Yes... I'm afraid Demona left me no choice."

"Well, that's disapp-" FitzGerald suddenly broke down into a violent coughing fit, holding a small handkerchief to his mouth. He drew it away, revealing a single drop of scarlet staining the white cloth.

"Perhaps," Thailog intoned. "I could interest you in some form of...compensation?"

[-]

 **National Museum of Ireland, Dublin, March 23** **rd** **1999 A.D.**

Rory Dugan's own reflection stared back at him from the polished surface of the glass display case. Within the case lay an almost complete set of ancient human bones, save for the missing skull and right hand.

Rory's eyes drifted to the small brass plate affixed to the bottom of the case...

 _Remains of first century Celtic warrior_

 _Excavated near Liscoo, Co. Donegal_

"What happened to the head?" Rory asked, turning to Molly as she began signing in ISL.

 _ _Maeve had it cut off and taken back to Connacht as__ _ _trophy.__

"Well, that's a cheery thought," Rory snarked.

Molly shrugged apologetically.

"No, it's all right," Rory replied. "I just thought being here might trigger... whatever happened last Christmas again. Instead it just feels weird, staring at me own bones."

 _ _The past is dead, Rory. Sometimes, it's best to just let it lie.__

[-]

The museum guard looked up from her magazine as the metal detector at the entrance began shrieking in a series of high-pitched squeals. "Not again..." she sighed.

A couple of tourists, clad in long gray trench-coats stood by the entrance. One was a tall man wearing a patch over his right eye. The other was a brown-haired woman who's lips curled upward in a thin smile.

"Sorry 'bout that," the guard apologized. "The bloody thing acts up at least three times a day."

"Not at all," the tall man drawled in what sounded vaguely like an American accent. "Technology can be so... unreliable."

"Must be the metal plate in my head!" the smiling woman cackled uproariously, drawing the attention of several other patrons as the two proceeded deeper into the museum.

"Yanks," the guard swore before returning to her magazine.

[-]

After a long moment, Molly's hands began signing again.

 _ _Sunset's not long. We should get back to Barghest and your dad before-__

"Top o' the morning to ya!" a harsh voice cackled.

Rory, Molly, and the rest of the museum's patrons turned towards the source; a woman casting aside a gray trench-coat, revealing her limbs to be coated in some kind of golden armored plating. Her lips contorted in a manic grin.

"Now, everyone hit the dirt!" the smiling woman shrieked as one of her limbs reconfigured into a particle weapon. She fired off a few random shots into the air, shattering the skylight above and raining countless tiny glass shards down on the now cowering crowd.

"Down!" Rory cried, using his own body to shield Molly as best he could.

A second golden-armored figure joined the woman, a tall man whose right eye had been replaced by a scarlet lens. "Hyena!" he hissed. "I thought we agreed to just case the joint?"

"What can I say, Jackal? I got bored," the woman called Hyena shrugged, before leveling her weapon directly at Molly and Rory. "Hey, lovebirds! Outta the way before I splatter ya everywhere! I just got my chassis waxed!"

Rory's first instinct was to reach for the yew-wood staff slung over his back, but one look at the dozen or so terrified bystanders ruled that out. He and Molly slowly edged out of the way of the marauding cyborgs.

The one called Jackal ripped the glass frame from the display case one-handed, setting off a cacophony of security alarms. He paid them no mind as he carefully placed the ancient bones within a foam lined metal case, one by one.

Rory's knuckles went white as he clenched his fists. It was all he could do to keep himself from jumping the creep.

"The toe bone connected to the heel bone, the heel bone connected to the foot bone..." Jackal hummed as he completed his task, snapping the case shut. "We're done here, sis."

"Afraid that's all we have time for, folks!" Hyena broke into a mad cackle, firing wildly in all directions as bystanders began to stampede. "Last one out is beef jerky!"

A moment later, rockets on the twin cyborgs' backs flared to life. They were swiftly carried out through the shattered skylight, mad laughter echoing in their wake.

In the ensuing chaos, no one but Rory noticed Molly ducking behind a large display or the night-black crow that emerged a moment later; a gold band wrapped tightly about its beak.

[-]

 **Phoenix Park, Dublin**

Sean Dugan flipped through his paper absentmindedly as the red-gold light of sunset filtered through the trees. The massive stone form of a monstrous hound sat attentively by his bench, as though guarding the Ulsterman.

Sean's ears perked up at the sound of approaching footfalls, but otherwise he gave no reaction as a female jogger turned the corner.

"You know..." she huffed, jogging in place. "I've ran... this route... over five years... I never noticed that... statue before?"

Sean grunted something monosyllabic, barely looking up from his paper.

"I guess... this park's just... full of surprises," the jogger panted.

Sean grunted again, flipping another page.

The jogger shook her head before continuing on her way.

Sean peered over his paper to make sure she was out of sight. What was it about southerners that made them want to strike up a conversation with every random stranger they bumped into?

His son had always been the same way. Rory could walk up to someone out of nowhere and in five minutes, the two would be laughing and joking like they'd been friends for years. The elder Dugan didn't know where the lad got it from.

No, that was a lie. Sean knew exactly where, or rather who, the lad got it from.

"DA!" a voice rang out, mercifully breaking Sean's train of thought. He turned to see his son running up the footpath.

"Rory!?" Sean exclaimed. "Where's Molly?"

"That's... a long story," Rory panted, bending over as he caught his breath.

As the sun dipped below the Dublin skyline, cracks began creeping along the stone skin of the monstrous hound. Its eyes flashed bright crimson as it cast off its stone skin with a night piercing howl, revealing coal-black skin beneath.

Within the blink of an eye, the beast pounced; pinning Rory to the grass before slobbering joyously all over his face.

"Blaaagh... down girl!" Rory groaned, gently shoving the beast off. "We got work to do."

[-]

 **Dublin Port**

"This is Kate Reed of Dalriada Broadcasting reporting from the National Museum of Ireland; the site of a brazen daylight robbery only a few short hours ago!" the young dark-skinned reporter exposited from a glowing screen.

"Descriptions of the thieves match those of the American criminals known only as Jackal and Hyena; former television stars turned international fugitives." The screen transitioned from an old publicity still of the twins locked in mock combat with a band of scarlet clad 'ninjas' to a pair of grainy mugshots.

"See?" Jackal drawled, flicking off the TV.

"Hey! I was watching that!" Hyena snapped.

"Thanks to your... impetuousness, dear sister, everyone on this god-forsaken rock is going to be looking for us!"

"Would you relax? They don't even let the cops here pack heat! What are they gonna do, throw their batons at us?" Hyena cackled, skinning an apple with razor-sharp metallic claws. "No gargoyles, no Dingo and his do-gooder friends... I could get used to jolly ol' Oirland!"

"Personally, I'd rather settle down somewhere where it doesn't rain three hundred and fifty days of the-" Jackal was cut off by a loud ping coming from the corner of the old warehouse, where a slim laptop lay on an old crate.

"That who I think it is?" Hyena inquired.

"Indeed," Jackal mused, reading through the new email. "It appears our employer wants to set up a meet, face to face."

"About time," Hyena said, leaning over her brother's shoulder. "When and where?"

Neither cyborg noticed the black crow that sat in the warehouse's rafters, watching them with glinting bright yellow eyes. Eyes brighter than even the golden band wrapped around its beak.

[-]

Rory paced up and down the shadowed alley. "She's been too long... we should do something?"

Barghest watched him, the beast's webbed ears drooping as she whined with concern. Rory had been the first living thing she had seen upon hatching barely a year ago and in all her life, she'd never seen him like this.

"That's it," Rory decided. "I'm going in!"

Before he could storm the warehouse, a crow fluttered out of the black sky. Eldritch light enveloped the avian as it came in for a landing, resuming the form of Molly.

"Are they in there?" Rory blurted.

Molly nodded.

"Fine, then lets go in there and bust their-" Rory began before Molly restrained him. Her hands began signing.

 _ _We have to wait. They're planning to meet someone.__

"I don't care!" Rory snapped.

 _ _Keep it down. What's gotten into you?__

"I... I don't know, it's just," Rory's shoulders fell. "Seeing those two maniacs make off with Cú Chulainn's bones... my bones felt... violating. God, that sounds insane, doesn't it?"

Molly's eyes softened as they met his, her hands moved slowly in response.

 _ _No... it doesn't. But we need to know who wants Cú's bones so badly and why.__

"You're right," Rory sighed. "So, where do they plan on meeting Mr. Mystery?"

[-]

 **Kilkea Castle Hotel, Co. Kildare**

The silver light of a full moon filtered through a thin mist, shining down on the grim wrought-iron gates. A simple wooden sign hung from the metal bars...

CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS

In the dead of night, no human eyes saw as a black sedan pulled up to the gates. The darkened windows rolled down, revealing Jackal's leering face as he reached to press the gate's intercom.

A security camera affixed to a stone pillar swiveled in his direction as a static tinged voice spoke. "Yes?"

"Setanta sent me," Jackal answered.

The gates pulled back with a pained metallic creak as the black sedan continued up the gravel path, finally coming to a stop before a looming medieval castle.

"Swaaanky," Hyena whistled, stepping out of the sedan's passenger seat.

"Just let me do the talking, sis," Jackal hissed. "These are aristocrats; well-bred, refined, genteel."

"You saying I can't be genteel?" Hyena barked, before thinking a moment. "Okay, fair point."

"Ahem?"

Both twins turned in the direction of the castle's portcullis. There stood a young, olive-skinned girl no older than eighteen or nineteen; blonde hair cropped short and clad in a simple black business suit.

"Lord Kildare will see you now," she intoned.

[-]

Jackal and Hyena's metallic footsteps echoed through the castle's empty corridors as they followed the young woman deeper into the fortress.

"Charming place you have here," Jackal mused. "If you don't mind my saying?"

"I'm afraid our family sold Castle Kilkea back in the sixties," the girl intoned flatly. "But father likes to visit every few years or so... for old times' sake."

For a moment, Hyena thought she caught something in the corner of her vision; tiny green eyes that glittered like dew-drops. In the split second it took to turn her head, they were already gone; leaving only a faint tittering.

"It's just the brownies," the girl answered Hyena's unspoken question. "Pay them no mind." She pushed open a pair of heavy oaken doors to reveal a sumptuous dining hall awash with a warm orange glow.

Before a roaring fireplace stood a tall man clad in a heavy black overcoat. His back was turned to the arrivals as he leaned upon a slim black cane topped by a silver serpent's head.

"May I present Gerald FitzGerald," the girl announced. "Earl of Desmond and Lord Kildare."

"Thank you for that marvelous introduction, Geraldine." FitzGerald turned, revealing a haggard ashen face. "Now go wait in the hall, this is grown-up business."

The girl opened her mouth as though to protest before thinking better of it. "Yes, father."

The elder FitzGerald smiled warmly through a short grey-yellow beard, gesturing to a fully stocked banqueting table. "Please, sit. Eat and drink your fill. I detest doing business on an empty stomach."

"I like your style, old man," Hyena cackled, savagely tearing a drumstick from a roast turkey before ripping a strip of meat from it with her bare teeth.

"What my sister means to say," Jackal began, shooting Hyena a glare. "Is that we'd be honored, your Lordship"

"I take it you've brought the merchandise?" FitzGerald inquired.

"Naturally," Jackal answered, brandishing the metal case.

"I'll have to inspect it, you understand? I'm afraid I've been disappointed too many times before."

"By all means," Jackal placed the case on the table, unlocking the latch. "Though frankly, one set of old bones looks much the same as another to me."

"You'd be surprised," FitzGerald smirked, gently lifting a finger bone from the foam padding.

He carefully used a small knife to shave a few flakes of bone onto a pure white napkin. Next, the Irish lord drew a vial of some brown-reddish liquid from his coat pocket.

"What's that?" asked Hyena through a mouthful of turkey meat.

"Iron oxide suspended in alchemically treated water," FitzGerald responded before pouring the bone flakes into the vial. He watched the contents with desperate anticipation, gently swirling the glass.

After one agonizing moment, the red-brown liquid began emitting a soft golden glow.

"Yes... YES!" FitzGerald yelled, leaping to his feet. "I'd almost given up hope!"

"I take it you're satisfied then?" Jackal interjected.

"Yes... yes, of course. Geraldine will see to your pay-" FitzGerald froze as his eyes passed over the window across the room.

Perched amid the branches just beyond the glass, sat a night-black crow with a golden band wrapped around its beak. It's wings began beating frantically as it realized it had been spotted.

With a single viper-like motion, FitzGerald drew the silver serpent head from his cane as though unsheathing a sword. Yet instead of a metal blade, it revealed a short rod of gnarled ancient oak.

 _"_ _ _Tar tintreach!__ _"_ FitzGerald bellowed as a bolt of emerald lightning shot from the tip of his wand, shattering the window and sending his guests diving for cover.

"Father!" Geraldine yelled as she burst into the room. "Are you alright? I heard-"

FitzGerald silenced her with a gesture, turning his attention back to Jackal and Hyena. "How would you two like to double your pay?"

"We're listening..." Jackal spoke, dusting himself off.

"Sweep the castle grounds," FitzGerald snarled. "And kill every last man, woman or beast you find."

[-]

The crow came in for a landing in the wooded undergrowth surrounding the castle, where Rory and Barghest lay in wait. Molly resumed her human form with a flash of blue light, signing frantically.

 _ _I was spotted.__

"Dammit," Rory swore. "Alright, we need to keep moving and-"

He was cut off by a barrage of particle fire raining down on the trees from above.

"Scatter!" Rory yelled as he, Molly and Barghest took flight deeper into the woods.

[-]

Hyena touched down in a grassy clearing. She upped the gain on the audio receptors implanted in her ears, until she could hear the echo of every rustling leaf.

Somewhere behind her, a boot squeaked softly.

Hyena's upper body spun a whole 180 as her arms extended telescopically, allowing her robotic fingers to grip tightly about the throat of her would-be stalker.

"Gotcha!" Hyena cackled, lifting the pink-haired girl to eye-height. "So, what's your deal?"

The pink-haired girl didn't let out so much as a whimper, struggling against the cyborg's grip.

"Fine," Hyena shrugged, extending the claws on her free hand. "I don't really care anyway."

Before Hyena could deliver the killing-blow, she was blinded by a bright blue flash. Next thing she knew, the pink-haired girl was gone only to be replaced by a violently trashing gray she-wolf in a golden bladed muzzle.

"GAAGH!" Hyena shrieked, tossing the animal across the clearing. It hit ground with a soft thud before leaping to its feet and diving into the undergrowth with whip-like speed.

"Nice trick, wouldn't mind being able to do that myself," Hyena rasped. "But a chick that turns into animals doesn't even make the top three weirdest things I've seen, girlie!"

Hyena's hand reconfigured into a particle weapon as she began firing wildly into the foliage, starting half a dozen small fires.

Another blue flash and a night-black crow burst from among the leaves, raking Hyena's face with its talons as it took to the air.

Hyena's hand reached to her bloodied face, she watched the crow circle the full moon before swooping to dive-bomb the cyborg.

"Come on, you stupid bird!" Hyena shrieked, claws fully extended. "Take your best shot!"

Blue light enveloped the crow as it morphed into the form of a giant white heifer mere feet above Hyena.

"OH SHI-"

[-]

Jackal swooped again over the wooded grounds, his cybernetic eye shifted into infra-red as he surveyed the landscape below. "Where are you hiding, you little-"

Out of nowhere, something like a shaft of shimmering golden light whooshed by, mere inches from Jackal's face. His neck craned as he watched the strange glowing projectile turn in mid-air before fly back in the direction it had come.

"Well... that's different," Jackal mused.

Standing in the open green lawn by the castle, was a tall muscular figure clad in little more than a flowing red cloak and bronze helm. The shaft of glowing light flew into the warrior's hand, where he grasped it as though it was a solid object.

"Nice outfit," Jackal drawled as he touched down on the green. "Shouldn't you be running away?"

"I'm here to challenge you to single combat!" the warrior bellowed imperiously.

"You can't be serious?" Jackal scoffed.

"If I win, you return what you stole," the warrior snarled in annoyance.

Jackal cocked an eyebrow. "And if I win?"

"You get my head," the warrior answered flatly.

"Hmm... sounds fair," Jackal chuckled darkly, flashing his claws. "Come on, then."

[-]

From atop the castle battlements, FitzGerald watched the two combatants lunge at each other. A small brownie perched on his shoulder, gnawing upon a bare turkey bone.

He watched as Jackal slashed again and again, only for each blow to be expertly parried by the mysterious warrior's shining spear.

" _Gáe Bolga_...?" He whispered in awe.

"Father, shouldn't we get you away from here?" Geraldine interjected. "We have what we came for."

"Flee in the face of the enemy?" FitzGerald asked indignantly. "No true FitzGerald would even countenance such a thing."

Geraldine bit her lip, falling silent.

"At least..." FitzGerald mused, turning his attention back to the duel below. "Not without gaining the foe's measure first."

He drew his oak wand and whispered _"_ _ _Rian__ _"_ , inscribing a glowing green Ogham rune upon the bottom of the metal case.

[-]

Jackal was sent sprawling to the ground as his foe took the legs out from under him with a sweeping kick. A split-second later, the glowing spear-tip was at his throat.

"Where. Are. The bones?" the warrior snarled.

"In the castle," Jackal panted. "The old man has them."

"Don't let me catch you on my island again," the warrior spat, turning his back to stomp towards the castle.

"Bad move," Jackal whispered before pouncing. His claws tore five bloody gashes across the flesh of his enemy's back.

The warrior swore in a language Jackal didn't understand as he fell to his knees.

"Real bad move," Jackal drawled, raising his claws to deliver the death-blow.

Next thing Jackal knew, something coal-black with blazing red eyes leaped from the shadows. Its gleaming fangs chomped down on the cyborg's arm before wrenching the limb clean off.

"Not again!?" Jackal shrieked as he staggered backwards, sparking wires dangling from his shoulder socket.

An immense gargoyle beast growled low as it stalked toward Jackal, worrying the cybernetic arm like an old bone.

"How many of you freaks are there?" Jackal shrieked again, eyes agog. He was so stunned that he failed to notice the warrior's fist flying towards his face.

[-]

Cú Chulainn flexed his fingers before reaching down to scratch behind Barghest's ears. "Good girl."

Warrior and beast both suddenly turned in the direction of a rustling bush, spear raised and fangs bared.

A moment later, Molly emerged dragging an unconscious Hyena behind her.

"You know," Cú mused. "We've fought terrorists, shape-shifters, crazed cultists and even a resurrected Fionn Mac Cumhaill; but I'm pretty sure these are our first full blown super-villains, with costumes and code-names and everything, I think we're finally starting to get the hang of-"

 _"_ _ _Tar tintreach!"__ a voice bellowed as a bolt of emerald lightning fell from the sky; sending Cú, Molly and Barghest flying across the grass.

Cú groaned, staggering unsteadily to his feet. His ears rang as he watched two figures stride out of the smoke.

A haggard looking man clad in a heavy black overcoat, accompanied by a young woman around Rory's age. In one hand; the old man held a black cane topped by a silver serpent head, in the other; a metal case.

"An impressive show," the haggard man chuckled softly. "And who might you be, young man?"

"I am Cú Chulainn, Hero of Ulster," the warrior's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And you have something that belongs to me!"

"Cú Chulainn...?" The haggard man whispered. His face gaped in incredulity for a moment, before twisting into a satisfied leer. "Fair enough."

"Father, what-" the girl began before being cut off.

"Catch," the haggard man yelled, tossing the metal case to Cú. "No hard feelings, lad?"

"Wait?" Cú stammered. "Who are you? What was all this-"

"A story for another night, lad..." The haggard man raised his cane to the sky. _"_ _ _Ceo cheilt orainn!"__

Cú shielded his eyes as a thick swirling mist covered the field, making it impossible to see anything. By the time it cleared, both the haggard man and the girl were gone, along with Jackal and Hyena.

Cú struck _Gáe Bolga_ against the ground, reverting back to the mortal form of Rory Dugan. Molly knelt beside him, signing.

 _ _Is that...?__

"Only one way to find out," Rory sighed, lifting the lid of the case to reveal dozens of ancient bones packed tightly in the soft foam.

Barghest sniffed the bones cautiously, looking back between them and Rory in confusion.

 _ _We can take them back to the museum in the morning.__

"Yeah, about that," Rory's brows wrinkled. "I was thinking..."

[-]

 **Cairn na Chullain, Liscoo, Co. Donegal, March 24** **th**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sean Dugan asked, raising a skeptical brow as he surveyed the ancient bones laid out upon the stone slab in the very heart of the cairn.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Rory spoke, bending down to pat Barghest's stone form. "I mean... they are my bones, right?"

The elder Dugan raised his second brow thoughtfully. "Hard to argue with that, I suppose."

Molly signed...

 _ _Rory is right. Taking Cú's bones from this place was a mistake.__

"I just wish I knew what that creepy old wizard wanted with them," Rory sighed. "Or why he gave them up with barely any fight."

[-]

 **Nightstone Unlimited, Paris Office**

The steel doors of the industrial elevator drew back as FitzGerald and his daughter stepped into a high-tech subterranean lab. A dark grey-blue gargoyle, clad in silver armor, turned to greet them.

"Ah, Lord and Lady Kildare," Thailog smiled. "Welcome to our Paris branch. Not quite as expansive as our Manhattan office I'll admit, but it should serve your needs."

"I've no doubt, Mr. Thailog," FitzGerald replied. "I'm looking forward to finally meeting this virtuoso of yours."

"By all means," Thailog chuckled, gesturing to a fourth figure who stepped out of the shadows. "Lord Kildare, may I present the greatest geneticist on the planet... Dr. Anton Sevarius!"

"At your service, milord and lady," the red-haired scientist drawled, giving an exaggerated courtly bow. "I understand you have some rather interesting osseous samples for me."

"Oh... I have something far better than that, Doctor." FitzGerald turned to his daughter. "Geraldine."

The girl stepped forward, holding open a metal case containing a severed cybernetic forearm. Its golden claws were stained blackish-red with dried blood.

"Oh my, yes..." Sevarius grinned, practically salivating. "We can have great fun with this."

 ** _To be Continued..._**


	2. Fuascailte

Gargoyles _,_ _co-created by Greg Weisman, is the property of the Walt Disney Company._

 _Special thanks, as always, to Gryphinwrym7, Masterdramon, GregX and BookwyrmPendragon13 for providing beta-reading and feedback._

* * *

 **Nightstone Unlimited, Paris Office, May 20th, 1999 A.D.**

Dr. Anton Sevarius, self-professed greatest geneticist on the planet, puttered casually about the subterranean laboratory. Most of his work was mere routine this late into the project, making simple adjustments to the tank's life support settings and taking notes.

Frankly, Sevarius found it dull busy work. He would have long ago passed the project onto some lab-tech, but the client had insisted on absolute confidentiality. Which meant keeping 'in the know' staff to a bare minimum.

In the cylindrical glass tank looming before Sevarius, a fully grown male human clone floated serenely in the jelly-like green fluid. Its skin and hair were both a pale, almost translucent white. Its reddish-pink eyes occasionally twitched randomly under drooping lids.

"They grow up so fast," Sevarius beamed proudly.

The doctor's introspection was broken by the sound of the heavy steel doors on the laboratory's hidden elevator drawing back.

Sevarius turned to be greeted by the sight of a haggard looking man in a black overcoat, leaning upon a slim black cane topped by a silver serpent head. At his side stood a young olive-skinned blond-haired girl with a dark grey duffle-bag slung over her shoulders.

"Ah, your Lordship," Sevarius grinned. "Come to inspect your new... housing?"

"Actually, I was hoping to take it for a test drive tonight, Doctor," FitzGerald rasped, leaning heavily on his cane. "Though frankly, I'm still not sold on the color."

"An unavoidable side-effect of the accelerated maturation process, I'm afraid," Sevarius explained. "But I assure your Lordship that beyond the cosmetic oddity, the clone is in perfect health... more than perfect, in fact. I'd love to know where your Lordship acquired that sample. It seems almost super-human."

"Trade secret, Doctor," spoke FitzGerald in a wheezing chuckle. "Geraldine, make preparations for the transference."

"Yes, father," the girl nodded, retrieving five green candles from her duffle-bag and setting them up in an equidistant circle around the elder FitzGerald and the cloning tank. They filled the laboratory with thick pungent smoke as she began lighting them with ice blue flames.

"As much as I appreciate good drama, is all this really necessary?" Sevarius drawled.

"Not strictly," FitzGerald admitted. "But it never hurts to set the proper mood."

"All is ready, father," the girl spoke, lighting the final candle.

"Thank you, Geraldine." FitzGerald's eyes locked upon the clone floating insensate in the tank. He took one last rattling breath before beginning a low chant...

" _Lig ár n-anamacha a mhalartú!_ " he intoned before collapsing unconscious to the floor.

Geraldine immediately dashed to catch her father's falling body as his ancient spirit rose into the air, like a blot of oil foating in water. She sensed, rather than saw, his presence slither across the room to enter the clone tank.

A moment later, the human form within began tossing and turning amid the green fluid as though in the throes of nightmare.

"Subject's EEG readings are violently erratic," Sevarius announced.

"Do something!" Geraldine shouted.

"I'm open to suggestions?" Sevarius snapped.

Almost as suddenly as it begun, the clone's twitching ceased as it returned to placid rest.

At the very same instant, FitzGerald's body jumped back to life as he broke down into a violent coughing fit. A few drops of blood staining the white tiles beneath him.

"Father!? Are you..." Geraldine began before being cut off.

"Away from me, girl! I don't need coddling!" he wheezed before rounding on Sevarius. "Doctor... you said the thing would be mindless?"

"Well, I never said _that_ exactly," Sevarius spoke. "The clone still possesses some rudimentary level of consciousness. Though without subliminal programming it is rather... unformed."

"Soul transference requires voluntary participation, Doctor. Without that, the homunculus is worthless to me," FitzGerald rasped, staggering to his feet. "Kill it."

"Are you certain, your Lordship?" Sevarius asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Absolutely,"

"Very well then," Sevarius shrugged, maximizing a dial on the console.

Instantly, the clone began convulsing violently in the tank, limbs contorting at unnatural angles.

"He's in pain," Geraldine murmured.

"Merely an epileptiform response to raising the sevoflurane dosage, my dear. It will all be over in a..." Sevarius fell silent as his gaze turned to the tank.

The clone's muscles bulged and swelled as the surrounding fluid began to bubble violently. A single hairline fracture was already creeping along the surface of the glass.

"Doctor...?" FitzGerald inquired, only a hint of warning in his voice.

"I don't understand!" Sevarius panicked, frantically adjusting controls on his console. "The temperature of the suspension fluid is raising exponentially! It's boiling away!"

One of the clone's eyes snapped open, bulging unnaturally as it locked upon FitzGerald with a look of utterly unbridled rage. FitzGerald's own eyes widened in realization...

"Warp-spasm."

The tank suddenly exploded, sending shards of glass shrapnel flying in all directions as Sevarius and the FitzGeralds dived for cover. At the same instant, every fuse in the building blew simultaneously, plunging the hidden laboratory into inky darkness.

FitzGerald's eyes adjusted as the emergency lights kicked in, washing the chamber in a blood-red glow. He almost lost his composure at the sight that greeted him.

Before FitzGerald loomed a monstrous hulking figure that seemed barely human. It glared down upon him with a single baleful green eye before throwing back its shaggy head and unleashing a bloody howl of purest fury.

[-]

 **Liscoo, Co. Donegal, Ireland**

Rory Dugan awoke in a cold sweat, panting heavily. For one nightmarish moment, he thought himself still trapped in the strange crimson-lit chamber. But the reddish glow was only the light of the setting sun filtering through the heavy curtains of his bedroom.

"Mental..." He exhaled. "Serves me right for eating day old pizza before bed."

He spent the next few minutes laying restlessly in bed as the sun slowly dipped behind the mountains to the west. A moment later, a low howl rose from the back yard outside.

"Guess that's my wake-up call," He groaned.

[-]

 **Nightstone Unlimited, Paris Office, May 21st**

A tall, blond woman clad in dark glasses, green long-coat and purple beret trod through the wreckage of what was once a pristine corporate lobby. The pale light of dawn glittering upon the broken glass scattered about the floor.

She knelt down to examine a massive indentation in the cracked marble floor. It looked almost like a footprint, but what could be heavy enough to leave footprints in solid marble?

"Can I help you, Madame?" a voice inquired. The blond woman looked up to be greeted by the sight of a dark-haired woman in a midnight blue business suit.

"Inspector, actually," the blonde woman responded, flashing a badge. " _Renée_ Chevalier of the _Paris Police_ Prefecture. What exactly happened here, Madame...?"

"Dumont, Sandra Dumont, head of Nightstone's Paris branch," the dark-haired woman answered, raising a quizzical brow. "And I believe I already made a statement to the police?"

"Humor me," the blonde spoke flatly.

"An unfortunate accident, I'm afraid," Mme. Dumont began. "One of the building's newly installed generators exploded last night and-"

"Decided to go barreling through your lobby like an escaped rhinoceros?" the blonde woman drawled.

"As I said, I've already given my statement to your colleagues," Dumont answered. "I'm sure they can give you a more detailed account.

The blonde's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Regardless, Mr. Thailog is happy to pay the city for any damages caused."

"I'm sure he is," the blond woman spoke. "Thank you for your time, Mme. Dumont."

"A pleasure, Inspector," Dumont inclined her head.

The blonde woman turned to leave, stepping out into the cold light. She followed the streets down to the banks of the Seine, where an iron guard-railing had been violently wrenched from the concrete.

"Exploding generator, my arse," she swore in a thick Scottish brogue.

[-]

 **Liscoo, Co. Donegal, Ireland, May 22nd**

 _He swam through the cold briny sea, water boiling as it made contact with his limbs. His rage kept him warm amid the dark frozen depths._

Rory awoke to find something wet and warm lapping against his face. It only took him a moment to realize it was Barghest's tongue.

He found himself sitting in the passenger seat of his dad's old van. Barghest crouched in the back as Molly shot Rory a concerned look from behind the wheel.

"Sorry," Rory groaned. "Musta dozed off."

They pulled up to the Dugan homestead, a thin mist seeping over the grass. Every window in the house was dark.

"Didn't think it was that late?" Rory mused as he stepped out of the passenger door, carrying his yew-wood staff.

Barghest hopped from the back of the van onto the damp gravel, growling low as she sniffed the air.

Rory fished his key from his jacket pocket as he reached for the doorknob, only to stop short.

"It's not locked," he whispered, looking back at Molly and Barghest.

Rory gently pushed the door inwards, revealing only inky blackness beyond.

"Da'?" Rory called softly, fingers clenched tight about his staff.

"R-Rory..." a voice replied weakly.

Rory instantly hit the light-switch. "Sweet Jesus!"

The entire living room was covered in creeping branches. Bound to his chair by a mass of vines, sat Sean Dugan.

"DA'!" Rory screamed, bounding forward. "Don't worry! We'll get you ou-" Rory reached out to tear the vine's away only to freeze when one wrapped around his father's throat began to tighten.

"I wouldn't recommend that," a voice rasped.

Rory, Molly and Barghest turned in unison towards the kitchen-area. Leaning over the counter was a haggard man in a dark overcoat, a black cane tucked under his arm and a steaming cup in his hands.

"Hope you don't mind me using your kettle," he smirked.

"WHO ARE YOU!?" Rory howled, advancing on the intruder. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DAD!?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten me already, lad? It was only March last we met at Kilkea Castle," the stranger chuckled dryly.

Rory froze, finally recognizing the wizard who had stolen the bones of his previous incarnation.

"Though I did neglect to introduce myself. Gerald FitzGerald; Lord Kildare and Earl of Desmond," The wizard bowed. "And you must be Cú Chulainn; Hero of Ulster reborn... or do you prefer 'Rory'?"

Molly signed something.

"What's that? I don't speak..." The wizard wiggled his fingers.

"She wants to know how you found us?" Rory snarled.

"Ah, that's easy," the wizard scoffed, pulling a metal case from beneath the sink. Rory instantly recognized it as the same case he had recovered from Kilkea castle.

The wizard touched his cane to the case, revealing a faintly glowing green glyph inscribed upon the bottom. "Tracking rune. You really shouldn't have kept this."

"Enough!" Rory yelled, enraged at his own stupidity. "Let my dad go or..."

"Now now, lad, there's no need to get yourself worked up." The wizard pointed his cane directly at the young man. "I just wanted to get your attention."

"You got 'til the count of ten." Rory hissed though gritted teeth, ready to strike his staff upon the ground at an instant's notice.

"Fair enough," the wizard slurped down the last of his tea. "I'm being hunted by a creature of unimaginable savagery. So... I came to you. That's what you heroes do, isn't it? Fight monsters and protect poor lost souls in need?"

"Rory... don't... listen to..." Sean wheezed before the vine around his throat constricted once more.

"Let him go!" Rory snarled.

"And if I do?"

"Then I'll take care of your monster problem."

"Do I have your word, upon your immortal soul?" the wizard asked, eyes glinting with avarice.

"You have," Rory answered.

"Deal!" the wizard touched the tip of his cane to the nearest vine. " _Fill ar an talamh!_ "

The vines instantly began to wither and die, releasing Sean Dugan. He wrenched himself from his chair; coughing and sputtering.

"Are you all right, Da'?" said Rory, kneeling by his father's side.

"I'm fine.." Sean wheezed. "Just a little winded."

"Well, shall we be off?" the wizard spoke, holding the front door open.

"Rory," Sean hissed, grabbing his son's arm. "Ya can't trust this bastard!"

"I don't intend to, Da'" Rory spoke before he and Molly followed the wizard outside.

Barghest made to follow before being stopped in her tracks.

"No, girl!" Rory commanded.

The beast whined pleadingly, webbed ears drooping.

"I need you to stay here and look after Da'," Rory cooed, laying a hand on the beast's head. "Can ye do that for me, girl?"

Barghest hesitated for a moment before turning back to sit by the elder Dugan's side.

"Good girl," Rory smiled before stepping out into the night, where Molly was already waiting.

At the end of the driveway, sat a jet black limousine. The only color upon the vehicle was a white coat of arms marked by a crimson X. A blond olive-skinned girl in a chauffeur uniform was holding the door open.

"Coming?" FitzGerald called from within.

Rory and Molly exchanged a tense glance before stepping into the car. A moment later, the door snapped shut behind them.

[-]

 **Redemption Squad HQ, Paris**

The pristine lobby of Nightstone Unlimited's Paris Office flickered across the screen. Two figures made their way across the image; a middle-aged gentleman leaning heavily on a black cane, and an olive-skinned young woman attending him.

"These is our target," Hunter spoke, freezing and enlarging the image. "Gerald FitzGerald, notorious black market collector of Celtic antiquities, and his daughter Geraldine."

"Wow! Somebody _really_ wanted a Gerald Jr," the bat-winged mutate Fang scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. On the other side of the table, the slate-gray gargoyle Yama simply rolled his eyes.

"It's an old family name," Hunter continued. "Clan FitzGerald has been one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Ireland since at least the 14th century."

"Old money idiot with no day job, got it," Dingo commented. "Why's the old geezer on our radar?"

"Twenty minutes after the FitzGeralds entered Nightstone's Paris Office," Hunter spoke. "This happened."

The image cut to a full color police photograph of the ruined remains of the lobby.

"Strewth," Dingo swore under his breath.

"According to Nightstone's official story, the building was empty when whatever did this went down," Hunter continued. "We would have had no idea the FitzGeralds had even been there if Matrix hadn't hacked this footage from their mainframe before it could be deleted."

"You are welcome," the liquid silver nano-bot collective intoned.

"Which means FitzGerald is either dead or in the wind. If he is alive, first place to look is his estate on the shores of Lough Gur, just over twenty clicks south of Limerick."

"What, you mean like one o' them dirty poems?" Fang asked.

"It's a city in Ireland, Fang," Hunter sighed.

"I knew that," Fang snipped.

"The mission is simple: we find FitzGerald, alive or dead, and bring him in for questioning, Hunter concluded. "Along with anyone else stupid enough to get between us and him."

[-]

 **Cork Harbor, Southern Coast of Ireland**

Cold waves crashed against the granite cliffs, as slow and steady as a titan's heartbeat. At the foot of the cliffs where land met sea, the waters began to bubble and boil as a massive malformed hand reached from the foam. It dug its fingers deep into the solid stone, steam rising from its sizzling skin.

A moment later, a second hand sank into the cliff-face, dragging an immense dark form behind it. The thing's mind was a fog of rage and pain. Only one thought was clear in its unformed psyche; It had to go North.

It had to go home.

[-]

 **Lough Gur, Co. Limerick, May 23rd**

Molly's footsteps echoed through the cold halls of FitzGerald Manor, guided by the wizard's daughter. The fading light of sunset streamed though the vast windows, falling upon at least a dozen portraits lining the opposite wall.

The subjects portrayed wore a wide array of features, body-types and clothing ranging from the Medieval to the Edwardian. Yet each bore a knowing leer, as though sharing a private joke.

"This is Gerald FitzGerald, third Earl of Desmond, one of the first of our bloodline," the girl intoned. She gestured to a portrait of an impossibly aged man clad in a brown-hooded robe, his hair was the color and texture of dried straw, and his skin that of ancient bark.

Molly couldn't help but notice that the portrait carried the same sardonic leer as all the others. The same leer she'd seen on the face of their current 'host'.

"The Earl was a great poet," the girl continued. "Who by virtue of his sweet words, wooed and won the heart of the goddess Áine. And she in turn, revealed onto him the lost lore of the ancient druids."

Molly's eyes narrowed suspiciously. The wasn't how _Áine_ told the story.

[-]

From the rooftop of FitzGerald Manor, Rory watched as the sun dipped below horizon. As it did so, the shimmering golden waters of Lough Gur gradually turned a deep dusky purple.

He wished Barghest was here.

"Lovely isn't, it?" a voiced rasped.

Rory turned to be confronted by the image of FitzGerald leaning upon his serpent-cane, eyeing the young Ulsterman as though appraising a prize thoroughbred.

"What do you want now, FitzGerald?" Rory asked.

"I thought perhaps I should apologize for that spot of bother back in Liscoo?" the wizard replied.

"Oh, you mean threatening to strangle my dad so you could blackmail me into doing your dirty work?" Rory sneered. "No worries, what're a few hostages between friends?"

FitzGerald was silent for a moment, before breaking out into a bout of harsh hoarse laughter. Laughter which soon degenerated into a hacking cough.

"Are... are you alright?" Rory asked.

"No," FitzGerald hissed, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

The twin emerald eyes of the wizard's silver serpent suddenly blazed bright green.

"Seems we have trespassers," he intoned.

[-]

A silver sphere emerged from the murky waters of Lough Gur. Its surface peeled back to reveal Hunter and Dingo crouched within. They wasted no time diving for cover in the underbrush along the shore as Matrix resumed its humanoid form.

"Alpha Team to Beta Team," Hunter whispered, tapping the earpiece hidden under her mask. "We're in position. What's your status?

"Still en route, Alpha," Yama's static-tinged voice responded.

"We woulda been there sooner, if _someone_ didn't insist on sleeping in the nude," Fang's voice interjected.

Hunter let out an exasperated sigh, "We'll give you ten minutes to get into position, then we move on the house."

"Acknowledged, Beta out," Yama answered.

[-]

Yama leaped over the high walls of the estate, landing silently on the soft turf below. He was followed swiftly by Fang, who landed with significantly less grace.

"Hey," Fang hissed. "How come we gotta be Beta Team while Hunter and Dingo get to be Alpha? It's blatant specieism, I tells ya! Just another way for the hu-MAN to keep a bat-winged brother down, amirite?"

"Fang...?" Yama whispered.

"Yeah, Yamster?"

"Shut up."

Gargoyle and mutate moved silently through the shrubbery 'til they came within sight of the manor's towering front door.

Before it, a muscular human warrior clad in a golden helm and scarlet cloak stood watch. In his hand, he held what appeared to be a shimmering shaft of solidified light.

"Whoa!" Fang whispered. "Somebody's overdressed for the renfair."

"Fang," Yama spoke softly. "Make your way around the side of the house and try to find some egress."

"What are you gonna be doin'?"

"Keeping our friend occupied," Yama spoke as he emerged from the undergrowth, talons wrapped tightly about the hilt of the katana that hung at his side.

[-]

Cú Chulainn's eyes scanned the landscape as he stood watch before the doors of FitzGerald's manor. He felt like a tool pacing through the grounds like a glorified night watchman but he didn't see many other options.

"Two thousand years and I'm still playing bloody guard dog," he muttered under his breath.

Cú's ears perked up at the sound of rustling coming from the bushes surrounding the house. He instantly lowered _Gáe Bolga_ into a battle-stance.

A moment later, a tall slate-gray figure emerged from the undergrowth. Black wings clung around his shoulders like a cloak. Great curved horns rose from his forehead before curving back over a sable mane.

"Great," Cú sighed. "I shoulda known FitzGerald's 'monster' would be a gargoyle."

"I am called Yama... the mountain," the gargoyle intoned.

"Cú Chulainn, the Hound of Culann," the warrior replied. "Charmed."

"I would have words with the master of this house," Yama unfurled his wings, revealing the sword sheathed at his side. "Will you stand aside, Hound of Culann?"

"Sorry, mate," Cú shook his head. "Whatever you're planning to do to FitzGerald, he probably deserves it. But I gave my word and I don't make a habit of going back on that."

"I would expect no less," Yama spoke, drawing his blade with a single fluid motion.

[-]

"Come on, you stupid..." Fang grunted as he wrenched open the window. The half-rotted frame raised with a grinding screech that set the mutate's teeth on edge.

He hopped into the darkened room, eyes adjusting quickly. One of the upsides of having cougar and bat genes spliced into his DNA.

"Sweeeet," he whispered, realizing he'd landed smack dab in the middle of a fully stocked kitchen. "Might as well refuel while I'm here."

He strutted up to the refrigerator, pulling it open. The bright light stung his eyes as he squinted. One of the downsides of having cougar and bat genes spliced into his DNA.

"Ah, there you are," he grinned, taking a leg of leftover lamb and tearing a chunk off with his bare teeth. "Needs salt," he mumbled.

He slammed the refrigerator shut, turning to find dozens of tiny glowing green eyes watching him from the shadows. He swallowed the meat with an audible gulp.

"Non sequitur, non sequitur!" dozens of tiny figures squealed as they pounced upon the mutate with claws like brambles and teeth like blood-stained thorns.

[-]

Hunter and Dingo stalked through the manor's shadowed corridors, weapons drawn. Tendrils of silver slithered from the darkness, pooling at their feet.

"Matrix, report?" Hunter whispered.

"Target is twenty meters ahead," the silver puddle replied.

Hunter gave Dingo a silent nod. A moment later, the silver nanobots began engulfing the Aussie ex-mercenary.

"Isn't this a bit overkill for some bloke with a cane?" Dingo asked as Matrix coalesced into a full body suit of silver armor.

"We're not taking any chances," the Scot spoke as they came to a set of heavy wooden doors. Hunter raised three fingers silently as she and Dingo took position either side of the ornately carved wooden frame.

Two fingers... one...

They kicked the door in simultaneously. Hunter swept the room with her side-arm as Dingo's arms morphed into twin particle-cannons. Off to Hunter's side a black crow sat in a golden bird-cage, some sort of metal band around its beak. Directly in front of her, gazing out over a balcony, was their target.

"Gerald FitzGerald, we're taking you in," Hunter proclaimed.

"Really," the Irishman rasped, not even turning to face them. "On who's authority?"

"On the authority of the three guns we have pointed at your bloody skull," Hunter sneered.

"Suppose I can't argue with that," FitzGerald chuckled darkly. "Now."

Ghostly blue light flashed on the edge of Hunter's vision. She turned to see a shaggy gray she-wolf wearing a golden-bladed muzzle pouncing on her.

"ROBYN!?" Dingo screamed turning to see his companion hit the ground as she struggled with the violently trashing wolf.

" _ _Tar tintreach!__ _"_ FitzGerald cried, drawing a gnarled wooden rod from his cane. Emerald lightning burst from the wand's tip, striking Dingo and freezing his armor in place.

"Geraldine, bring the car around the side," the wizard spoke into a cell-phone before slipping it back into his pocket, casually walking past the still struggling Hunter and she-wolf. "You girls have fun."

The she-wolf's golden muzzle was a mass of spikes and blades straining for Hunter's throat. She had little doubt the beast could do a lot of damage even without its jaws or natural fangs.

Hunter slipped a small taser from a pouch before jamming its metal prongs into the animal's side. The canine convulsed silently before falling into a semi-conscious stupor. She pushed the torpid beast off her before rushing to check on Dingo.

"Harry?" She asked. "You alright?"

"Yeah..." Dingo replied from somewhere under the armor. "Just need to give Matrix a minute to clear his head."

"Fair enough," Hunter spoke before giving chase to the escaping target. She'd made it halfway down the hall when she heard what sounded like a heavy pounding on the hardwood floor coming up behind her.

Hunter spun around only to be confronted by the sight of a horned white heifer charging her, a spiked golden muzzle wrapped around its snout. She waited until the rampaging animal was practically within arm's reach before grabbing it by both horns.

The heifer's head instinctively jerked upwards, providing Hunter the momentum needed to leap clear over the rampaging bovine. She landed with cat-like grace behind the animal, who was struggling to turn in the narrow hallway.

Ghostly pale light enveloped the creature as it shifted into the form of the shaggy gray she-wolf from before.

"Ah... so that's your secret," Hunter smirked, drawing what appeared to be a dark metal sphere from her belt.

The she-wolf pounced once more, but this time Hunter hurled the sphere directly at the beast. It exploded into a metallic net that swiftly entangled the she-wolf, sending it tumbling to the ground.

The creature writhed impotently in the netting, glowing pale blue as it shifted shape from wolf to heifer to crow and finally, a pink-haired girl in a leather jacket. She glared at Hunter with a look of indignant fury.

"Iron filament in the netting," Hunter gloated, placing a foot on her prey. "Had it whipped up after a run-in with the Monkey King a couple years back."

Dingo came running up the hall, Matrix gliding along the floor behind him. "I can't believe you just left me bloody standing there!" He bellowed.

"You said you were alright," Hunter shrugged. "Better check in on Yama and..."

Fang suddenly came barreling through one of the hall doors, screaming as half a dozen tiny wooden creatures crawled all over him, clawing and biting at every inch of exposed flesh they could find. The mutate unleashed a panicked blast of lightning that reduced his attackers to charred splinters.

"GAAGH!" Fang spat, tongue lolling out. "I think sum o' dem goth in mah mouth!"

"Fang!" Hunter exclaimed. "Where's Yama?"

[-]

Shimmering light-spear and gleaming katana clashed again and again, almost faster then the eye could follow. Cú Chulainn had the edge in raw power, but the gargoyle called Yama made up the difference with skill.

"Impressive," Yama intoned over locked weapons. "But why fight so fiercely for a man you clearly hold in contempt?"

"I'm not fighting for FitzGerald," Cú growled, pushing Yama back. "I'm fighting for my family!"

"Ah..." Yama sighed in understanding as the two warriors circled each-other, weapons raised. "The stick."

Three more figures landed on the open lawn near the dueling warriors. One of them was a man clad in silver armor, the second was a bat-winged creature with the head of a cat, the third was a masked woman in black. Over the woman's shoulder was slung a net containing...

"Molly!" Cú exclaimed.

"Yama?" The masked woman inquired.

"Do not interfere!" Yama shouted.

"Ah man, is this one o' them samurai-Klingon-honor things?" the cat-head drawled, lightning wreathing its paws. "Let me just blast him!"

"Fang, if you interfere with this duel I will slice off your head and mount it upon the front of the _Redemption!_ " Yama bellowed, before thrusting his blade at Cú.

Cú moved to parry but before he could, blinding pain erupted within his skull...

 _ _He raced through the night under a waxing half-moon, ground shaking with every step of his monstrous feet. He caught the faintest trace of his tormentor's scent in the air, inflaming his rage to even further heights.__

 _ _Up ahead, lapped the shores of a horseshoe-shaped lake. He did not even slow down, instead using the power of his mammoth calves to send his massive frame hurtling over the waters in a salmon-like leap.__

 _[-]_

Yama stayed his blade as the warrior collapsed to the ground. His foe twitched in semi-consciousness as though in the throes of some kind of seizure... or nightmare.

"Congratz, you won!" Fang beamed. "Now can I blast him?"

"This is no victory," Yama hissed, kneeling by the fallen warrior's side. "He requires medical attention!"

"I'll call in the _Redemption_ ," Hunter spoke, passing her netted prey to Dingo as she fished a remote from her belt. "Any idea who he is?"

"He called himself the 'Hound of Culann'," Yama answered as he checked the warrior's pulse.

Hunter's eyes widened. "The Hound of...?"

Something rumbled in the distance like thunder as the warrior's eyes snapped open.

"No sudden movements!" Hunter barked, drawing side-arm on the prisoner. "Where's Fitz-"

Before she could complete her sentence, something landed upon the lawn with the force of an impacting meteor, sending debris flying in all directions. Matrix barely had time to form a protective dome around the Squad and their prisoners.

"Matrix, bring the shield down!" Hunter ordered.

The nanobot collective complied, revealing a massive crater in the middle of the lawn, small flames burning around the edges. Then something stepped out of it.

The creature was a grotesque parody of the human form. Its muscles swelled and bulged many times beyond what was naturally possible. So much that its pale ash-gray skin seemed torn in several places, revealing the crimson musculature beneath.

From beneath a mass of bone-white hair gazed a single blazing green eye big as a human skull, its twin was nothing but a single emerald pinpoint in a hollow eye-socket. Its lips were peeled back in a rictus snarl. The grass where it trod charred and wilted.

"My God," Hunter whispered.

The thing howled with a war-cry that seemed to shake the firmament, sparks flying from its gullet as though from a furnace.

Then it charged.

 _ _ **To be Continued...**__


	3. Ríastrad

Gargoyles _,_ _co-created by Greg Weisman, is the property of the Walt Disney Company._

 _Special thanks, as always, to Gryphinwrym7, Masterdramon, GregX and BookwyrmPendragon13 for providing beta-reading and feedback._

* * *

 ** **Lough Gur, Co. Limerick, May 23rd, 1999 A.D.****

 _He came to his senses in what remained of the Southerners' camp, under the light of a crimson sunset. Everywhere he turned, lay the broken, mangled corpses of hundreds upon hundreds of Medb's warriors. He looked down to find himself naked save for a few ragged scraps..._

 _And a thick layer of dried blood._

Cú Chulainn's eyes blinked at the sight of the thing howling at the gibbous moon above, sparks flying from its gullet. It glared back at him with rage, revulsion... and familiarity.

Then it charged.

"Scatter!" the masked woman cried, her comrades leaping into action.

As the creature bore down on him, Cú let his instincts kick in and rushed the monster with a whooping Gaelic war-cry. He'd barely gotten within arm's reach of the thing before it swatted him, sending him hurtling through the manor's thick stone walls.

[-]

Hunter watched as the strange warrior was sent flying by a single swipe from the monster's misshapen paws. If he was who Yama claimed, he'd probably be fine. If not...

"Yama, Fang, run interference," she cried, raising her side-arm and unloading a full clip into the thing's leathery hide. "Dingo, Matrix, hit it with everything you've got while we cover you!"

"Sorry, luv," Dingo dropped the pink-haired girl, still enmeshed in the metal net, behind a bush. "You'll be safer here."

The monster immediately turned on Hunter, bellowing with fury as it lunged. Before it could close in on her, a pair of shining throwing stars erupted from the flesh of its neck, followed by a Katana buried deep in its back as Yama swooped past.

The creature reached for a full grown-oak tree, tearing the massive trunk from the earth. Its waist seemed to twist a full hundred and eighty degrees as it hurled the tree directly at the tengu warrior, who only barely dodged the branched projectile.

While the thing was distracted, Fang pounced upon its back like a true cougar upon its prey. One of his hands grabbed the hilt of the still embedded katana while the other surged with electricity.

"Ya know your problem, pal?" Fang drawled, touching a charged finger to the steel blade embedded in the monster's back. "Ya don't know how to conduct yerself!"

The monster let loose a bone-shaking shriek as lightning surged directly into its heart. Yet its agony did not prevent it from wrapping a hand about the mutate's waist and hurling him across the sky.

"OHMERCIFULGODSAVEMEANDIPROMISENEVERTOMAKEFUNOFYAMAAG-" Fang screamed before Yama caught him in mid-air. "I didn't finish, so it doesn't count!"

"What?" the tengu asked.

"Nothing," Fang replied, taking wing under his own power.

[-]

"Wha... what the Hell was that?" Cú Chulainn groaned as he dragged himself from the rubble, leaning heavily on _Gáe Bolga_. His head felt like Medb's entire army had just marched across it. He gazed out through the hole he had just made in the manor's wall, swearing softly in ancient Gaelic.

The once immaculately kept lawn now looked more like a war-zone. The earth had been torn-up and charred. Amid the carnage stood the silver-armored stranger from earlier.

The stranger's arms had seemingly fused into what looked like a giant cannon. A beam of crimson energy surged from the weapon's muzzle, striking the rampaging monster. The creature was pushed back several meters, only to dig its feet into the ground. Its skin charred as it began taking one slow but steady step forward.

Cú didn't fancy the silver warrior's chances, whoever they were, but a frantic movement from the edge of vision drew his attention from the battle.

"Molly?" Cú raced the the side of his pink-haired companion, still tangled in the metallic net behind a bush. "Hold on, I'll get you-"

He was cut off by the sensation of something pressing against the back of his helm, followed by the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.

"Drop. The. Spear," someone hissed in a thick Scottish brogue.

Cú did as he was bid, slowly raising his hands. "We can help."

"I've had enough of yer 'help' for one night," the masked woman spat.

"Hunter," the gargoyle called Yama leaped down from a nearby tree. "I think we should trust him."

"He was trying to skewer you, Yama," the woman called Hunter spoke.

"Only because FitzGerald threatened his family," Yama narrowed his eyes. " _You_ would know something of that."

Hunter's lips curled in distaste. "The last person we trusted stabbed this team in the back."

"To assume the worst of all, to expect betrayal and treachery at every turn is ultimately just another form of cowardice."

Hunter was silent for a long moment, finger tense on her trigger...

[-]

"Dingo," Matrix's calm metallic monotone droned through the silver helmet. "I can only maintain this power output for another 3.7 seconds."

Through the red-tinted visor, Dingo watched as the lumbering monster slowly powered through the particle stream emanating from his silver arm-canon. "Good to know."

"3.0 seconds," Matrix intoned.

"2.0 seconds,"

"1.0 second,"

"Not helping!" Dingo barked as the creature reached out with a single misshapen hand, before something roughly the size of a freight-train rammed the thing, sending it flying across the ravaged lawn.

Dingo collapsed to his knees, panting for air as the Matrix armor melted into a silver puddle at his feet. He looked up at his 'savior', the next breath catching in his throat. "Stone me!"

The thing was like some immense maggot, bloated tail ending in a giant scorpion-like barb. Welded over its slavering maw was a spiked golden contraption that reminded Dingo of the cow-catcher of an old-fashioned steam-engine. The first monster clung to the maggot-thing's gold grill as both creatures trashed violently.

Dingo immediately drew his own side-arm. Not that he really expected it to do much good.

"Hold your fire!"

Dingo turned to be greeted by the sight of Hunter, Fang, Yama and the stranger the tengu had been dueling just a few moments ago.

"Hunter, what the Hell is that... thing?" Dingo shouted over the creatures' trashing.

"On our side... for now."

Another bone-shaking cry pierced the night as the maggot-thing impaled the first monster upon its scorpion barb. With flick of its bloated tail, it sent its victim hurtling across the night-black lake, howling in rage and agony.

Pale ghostly light enveloped the titan-maggot as it shrunk, resuming the form of the pink-haired girl before falling to her knees. The strange warrior ran to her side, likewise reverting to the form of a dusky-red haired youth in a golden flash.

"Yama, Fang, eyes in the sky. I want to know where that thing landed. As for you two..." Hunter spoke in clipped tones, turning on the two youths. "Explanations... now."

[-]

Matrix sat in a lotus position amid the ruined living room, a silver tendril plugged into an adjacent socket. They watched as Hunter paced slowly up and down the room, eyes never leaving the two young humans who had identified themselves as 'Rory' and 'Molly'. Dingo reclined nonchalantly upon an armchair.

"You're Cú Chulainn?" Hunter inquired skeptically.

"Sorta..." the human called Rory answered

"Ah, that explains everything," Dingo opined. "At least it would if I had any idea what a bloody 'kookooloon' is?"

"Cú Chulainn was a mythical Irish hero and demigod," Hunter answered. "Who died defending Ulster from invasion almost two thousand years ago?"

"Technically, I'm a reincarnation," Rory elaborated.

"Why not? Nothing surprises me after meeting Ki-OWW!" Dingo yelped as Hunter jabbed an elbow into his side. Matrix found their courtship rituals rather fascinating.

"And what's _your_ story," Hunter asked, turning her attention on the pink-haired human called 'Molly'.

The girl signed a single word in ISL that Matrix's linguistics programming translated as 'long'.

Before Hunter could press the issue, Yama and Fang landed just beyond the the gaping hole in the living room's wall.

"We found no sign of the creature." the tengu intoned.

"Damn," Hunter swore. "Alright, Squad move out before FitzGerald's trail goes cold!"

"We're coming too," Rory interjected.

"Are ye now?" Hunter drawled.

"I have a few questions for that snake," Rory answered.

"You swore an oath to FitzGerald?" Yama noted.

"To protect him from that... thing," Rory replied. "Figure he'll be safer with you lot than wherever he is now."

"Sound Logic," Yama nodded. "But the decision is Hunter's."

Hunter's eyes narrowed as she appraised the two youths, calculating her next move.

[-]

 ** **Limerick City, May 24th****

FitzGerald emerged from a dingy warehouse on the banks of the Shannon river. He watched for a moment as the evening sunlight danced upon the rippling waters, before placing a heavy suitcase in the trunk of his jet-black limousine.

"How long 'til we reach the airport," he asked, slipping into the backseat.

"Just under half an hour, assuming light traffic," Geraldine answered from the front, turning the ignition.

FitzGerald brooded silently as the limo made its way through the winding streets of Limerick, so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice when the car came to a complete stop. "Geraldine, why-"

Before he could utter another word, silver tendrils erupted from the floor. The wizard tried the reach for his serpent-cane, only for his wrists to be tightly bound by a tendril that swiftly morphed into a pair of silver manacles.

Both FitzGeralds were helpless as the silver tendrils carried them through a dissolving limo roof before depositing them unceremoniously upon a nearby rooftop.

FitzGerald looked up to see Cú Chulainn, Molly and the two strangers from the manor glaring down at him. Meanwhile the silver tendril coalesced into a vaguely humanoid form.

"Well... this is cosy," FitzGerald drawled.

The masked woman grabbed him by his collar, dragging him to the rooftop's edge. "Talk, now."

[-]

"A clone... of me?" Cú Chulainn spoke in unbelief and revulsion. "Why?"

"Simple, lad," FitzGerald rasped. "I'm dying,"

"What...?"

"Got the diagnosis last year," FitzGerald answered casually. "I have a few months at most."

"That doesn't explain the Clone," Hunter intoned coldly.

"Druidic magic is all about channeling the forces of nature, bending them to your will," FitzGerald explained. "But you can only force nature to act against Herself for so long. Our fleshy bodies naturally yearn to return to ol' Mother Earth. So either I whore myself out for a hit o' grail water, turn myself into an undead blood-junkie or... get myself a new body."

"Consciousness transferal?" Matrix chimed in. "Theoretically possible, but far beyond the current capabilities of human technology."

"WHAT!?" Cú roared, tearing FitzGerald from Hunter's grip. "You made a clone of me so you could hop into him like you were trading-in a bloody car!"

"You should be flattered, lad," the wizard smirked. "I only settle for the very best."

"That doesn't explain why the bloody thing looked like it had crawled out of a bad horror movie," Dingo interjected.

FitzGerald grinned at Cú. "Do you want to explain it to them or shall I?"

" _R_ _íastrad_ ," Cú whispered.

"The what?" Dingo asked quizzically.

"There isn't really an English term for it, but the closest would be... 'warp-spasm'," FitzGerald began. "In the heat of battle, the original Cú Chulainn would be seized by superhuman rages that twisted mind and body, transforming him into a blood-mad beast that knew not friend from foe. Or so the story goes."

"Is this true," Hunter asked, eyes locked on Cú.

"I... it's never happened to _me_." he offered weakly.

"Yet," FitzGerald added with wicked smirk.

[-]

"I don't know," Fang sighed. "I guess... I just act like a jerk-wad as a defense mechanism. I mean... if everybody thinks the worst of ya, ya can't disappoint anyone, right?"

On the other side of the _Redemption_ 's cabin, Yama's stone form sat silent and immobile.

"That's what I like about you, Yamster," Fang went on. "You get me."

"Fang," Hunter's voice spoke.

"I didn't say anything!" the mutate blurted.

"What?" Hunter asked quizzically as she boarded the copter, followed by Dingo, Matrix, Cú and Molly, dragging the two prisoners behind them.

"Nothing," Fang squeaked.

"Hunter!" Dingo shouted.

All suddenly turned in the direction of Cú, who clutched his head in pain before collapsing once more into unconsciousness.

"Does he do that a lot?" asked a nonplussed Fang.

[-]

 _He skulked through the woods, cradling his abdomen. Boiling blood slowly bubbled from his wound. He peered beyond the forest's fringes, where stood a modest sized bungalow. In the back garden, a monstrous stone hound stood guard._

"Cú Chulainn," a voice called through the darkness.

"Molly?" he mumbled. No, Molly looked down on him with concern but the voice was that of the woman called Hunter.

"What did you see?" the Scot asked.

Cú's eyes snapped open in blind terror. "Please God, no..."

[-]

 ** **Liscoo, Co. Donegal****

Sean Dugan checked his watch again as golden sunlight streamed through the kitchen window. He casually filled a large metal bowl with cool tap water before loading about three raw steaks into another.

He stepped into the back garden where Barghest was still keeping her still vigil. He laid the metal dishes in the grass in front of her as the sun edged closer to the horizon.

"I know girl," Sean sighed, patting the beast's stone head. "I'm worried 'bout them too."

The elder Dugan was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice the shadow suddenly looming over him. He spun around to be confronted by the sight of a hulking, malformed but chillingly familiar face.

"Daaaaaaaaa..." the thing slurred.

[-]

Yama's eyes blazed white as he roared, shaking off the last of his stone skin. The steady hum of the the helicopter's blades vibrated softly through the cabin.

"Put some clothes on, ya pervert!" Fang yelled, tossing Yama's uniform across the cabin.

"Status?" the tengu inquired, swiftly donning his gear.

"Nabbed the two targets," Dingo spoke, thumbing in the direction of the two yellow-haired humans handcuffed to the rear of the cabin.

"Yet we are not returning to Paris?"

"Kid thinks he has a lead on our 'monster'." This time Dingo gestured to the cockpit, where the Hound of Culann was hovering anxiously over Hunter's shoulder.

"There!" he suddenly cried.

The _Redemption_ came to a landing near a small bungalow on the edge of a thick forest. As the hatch drew back, Yama was shocked to see a massive pitch-black _shisa_ sniffing and clawing frantically at the grass.

The beast turned on the Squad as they disembarked, eyes glowing a faint crimson as she let out a low rumbling growl.

"Barghest!" the Celtic warrior called as he leaped to the ground.

Instantly, the beast's entire demeanor shifted. She bounded up to the boy, nuzzling him like a lost hatchling having found her rookery mother.

"Is that...?" Hunter inquired.

"Yes," Yama answered. "Our young friend is full of surprises."

"Girl, where's da'?" the youth asked.

The beast seemed confused, sniffing at the boy before turning to snuffle the grass. She circled the lawn once before bounding off into the woods with a night piercing howl.

"Quick!" the youth cried as he raced after the beast, swiftly followed by the pink-haired girl.

"Squad, hold!" Hunter ordered, before disappearing back into the _Redemption'_ s Interior. She emerged a moment later, holding the two prisoners at gunpoint.

"Damned if I'm leaving these two unsupervised."

[-]

Sean Dugan awoke to find himself lying upon the cold damp earth within a rough hewn stone chamber, dim moonlight filtering from the cracks above. It took him only a few moments to realize where he was.

"Cairn na Chullain?"

Sean's attention was drawn by the sound of heavy irregular breathing. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he began to make out the hulking shape. It lay curled at the foot of the broad flat stone that now held the bones of the original Cú Chulainn.

"My God..." Sean gasped as a thin beam of moonlight fell upon the creature's face. "Rory?"

The elder Dugan could not mistake the features of his own son, no matter how distorted. He crawled over to kneel beside the shape's side as it cradled its bleeding abdomen, dark crimson seeping into the ancient stones.

"Oh, lad... what have they done to you?"

[-]

Cú Chulainn and Molly stood at the entrance of Cairn na Chullain, watching as Barghest cautiously sniffed at the trail of dried blood leading into the tomb's depths.

Hunter and the rest of the Redemption Squad soon emerged from the thick woods, dragging the manacled FitzGeralds behind them.

"Alright," Hunter began, cocking her gun. "The creature's wounded. If we hit hard and fast we might be able to put it down before it has a chance to retaliate."

"Wait," Cú interjected. "If we go in there guns blazing, he's liable to bring the whole cairn down on us."

"You have a better idea?" Hunter asked.

"Let me go in alone," Cú offered. "Maybe I can calm him down."

"And if it decides to tear your head off instead?" Hunter inquired.

"I'll take that risk," Cú answered. "Please... he has my dad."

Hunter was silent for a long moment, before holstering her weapon. "If we don't hear from you in ten minutes..."

Cú nodded before striking his spear against the ground. A moment later, Rory Dugan stood in his place.

"Wish me luck," Rory spoke before taking his first step into the darkness. He stalked quietly, holding tightly to the yew-wood staff in his hand.

He was halfway down the roughly-hewed corridor, when he heard a familiar voice echoing from the darkness ahead...

"Oh, lad... what have they done to you?"

"Da'..." Rory whispered, racing to the main chamber where he found his father kneeling silently before a prone hulking shape. He walked up, quietly placing a hand on the elder Dugan's shoulder.

His father immediately spun around, tearful eyes widening in shock. "Rory... How?"

"I'll explain later," Rory answered. "Right now, we need to get you somewhere safe."

"What about him?" The Elder Dugan turned to the creature as it struggled to breathe.

"I... I don't think there's anything we can do to help him."

"We can't just leave the poor devil like this," Sean protested.

"No..." Rory sighed. "No, we can't."

[-]

Molly sat upon a cold flat stone, idly tracing swirling patterns in the dirt. She looked up to see Hunter's eyes locked on her, like a tigeress waiting for perfect moment to pounce.

"How long has he been in there?" Hunter asked.

"9 minutes and 38.5 seconds," Matrix intoned in response.

"That's it, we're going in," Hunter spoke, drawing her side-arm.

Molly immediately leaped to her feet, moving to block the Squad's path.

Hunter's eyes narrowed dangerously, hand resting on the metallic sphere hanging from her belt. "Step. Aside."

Molly did not move.

"Look," Yama called.

All turned in the direction of the ancient cairn, where Rory and his father were emerging from the stone passage. The younger Dugan carried a pale emaciated form wrapped in a crimson cloak.

The figure's still features would have been indistinguishable from Rory's if not for the silver-white hair.

"Is it... is he...?" Hunter asked.

"Yeah..." Rory spoke, laying the cold form down upon the grass.

"Well..." FitzGerald chuckled dryly. "I should have known no cheap knock-off could hold a candle to the original."

The silence fell upon the clearing for long moment, before it was it was suddenly shattered by the sound of Rory's knuckles impacting with FitzGerald's nose.

"Father!" Geraldine cried, throwing herself between Rory and the fallen wizard.

"Please, child," FitzGerald coughed, awkwardly spitting blood upon the grass.

The girl looked stunned as Rory brushed past her. He dragged the wizard back to his feet, holding him by the collar.

"If I _ever_ lay eyes on your face again, FitzGerald..." Rory snarled.

"Now I see where he got the temper," the wizard hissed back.

Rory's hands shook as he tossed FitzGerald towards the Hunter. "Just... get him the Hell outta my sight!"

"Gladly," Hunter spoke, activating a small remote transmitter. A few moments later, the Redemption Squad's sleek black helicopter came hovering over the tree-line.

As Hunter, Dingo and Fang loaded their prisoners aboard, Yama turned towards Rory and Molly.

"Guess I shoulda handled that better," Rory sighed.

"Frankly, you showed more restraint than I would have in your position." The slate grey gargoyle extended his hand. "Take care, Hound of Culann."

"You too," the Rory replied, grasping Yama's wrist.

The gargoyle nodded before boarding the helicopter.

As the craft once more took to the air, Hunter's eyes glared down on Rory and Molly. "We'll be keeping an eye on you two."

They watched as the ebon helicopter disappeared into the night sky.

"I'm not sure if that was a threat or not?" Rory opined.

"And I'm not sure what the bloody Hell just happened?" his father replied, scratching behind Barghest's ears.

Rory smiled faintly. "I'll tell ya all about it, Da. After."

Rory, Molly, Sean and Barghest all gazed down at the still form wrapped in its crimson funeral shroud.

[-]

 ** **Slieve League Cliffs, Co. Donegal, May 30th****

The dark waves crashed again and again upon the grey cliff face, slow and steady as the heartbeat of some sleeping leviathan. Atop the cliffs, under a full moon, stood Rory, Molly, Sean; all dressed in black as Barghest watched on.

"I wish I could say I knew him. I wish I could say we'll never forget his name. But he never really had one, did he?" Rory ran his hand across the smooth metal cylinder in his hand. "I guess we're not really mourning a death so much as a life that never got a shot."

Rory removed the lid and tipped over the jar, allowing the ashes within to take flight on the sea-wind. "Godspeed, mate... I hope you have better luck next time."

They stood there in silence for a long while before a light drizzle began to fall.

"Ach, better get back to the van before we catch our death," Sean grumbled, placing a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezing gently. "Coming, Rory?"

"You lot go on," Rory answered. "I'll catch up."

"Sure, lad... sure."

As Molly and Sean made their way to the van, the elder Dugan turned back to watch his son looking out over the cold grey sea.

"Cuchulain stirred," Sean intoned softly. "Stared on the horses of the sea, and heard the cars of battle and his own name cried; and fought with the invulnerable tide."

 ** _The End...?_**


	4. Malartú

Gargoyles _,_ _co-created by Greg Weisman, is the property of the Walt Disney Company._

 _Special thanks, as always, to Gryphinwrym7, Masterdramon, GregX and BookwyrmPendragon13 for providing beta-reading and feedback._

* * *

 **Undisclosed Location, August 16** **th** **, 1999 A.D.**

Geraldine FitzGerald slowly shuffled through the cold grey corridor, head hanging low as though in a funeral procession. The metal cuffs about her wrists and ankles, as well as the two guards marching either side of her, did little to lift her spirits.

" _Arr_ _êt_ ," One of the guards spoke in clipped French, as they came to a blank stainless steel door. He passed his key-card over the electronic lock. "You have ten minutes."

She squinted as she stepped across the threshold, cold light stinging her eyes. All was silent save for the mechanical wheezing of an artificial respirator and the unmistakable steady beat of an electrocardiograph. The room's walls were a pure, almost anti-septic, white.

At the room's center was a hospital bed, where lay an emaciated figure.

"Father...?" she whispered.

The elder FitzGerald's only response was to shift his watery eyes weakly in her direction. The mass of plastic tubing hanging from his mouth and nostrils left him incapable of speech.

She sat herself quietly upon the small stool by the side of his bed, struggling to raise her gaze from her lap. When she finally did, she found her father's own eyes returning her stare.

"I..." She began before the words dried up in her throat under the weight of his withering yet pleading eyes.

"I know I'm not what you always wanted in an heir. I know I've never been able to live up to the standards you've set. I've failed you at every turn," she sobbed softly. "But I _can_ do this for you..."

She leaned forward to whisper in her father's ear. " _ _Lig ár n-anamacha a mhalartú.__ _"_

[-]

The bank of security monitors bathed the control room in a blue haze as two shadow-draped figures watched the screens expectantly.

"Is this wise, Sir?" An accented voice asked. It belonged to a dark-skinned woman with the build and facial expression of a brick wall.

"Do you have children, Dolores?" a pale grey-haired man asked.

Dolores paused for a moment. "No, Sir."

"Then I don't expect you to understand," the Director answered curtly, turning his attention back towards the screen.

He cocked an eyebrow as he watched the young woman on the screen seem to sway, falling to the floor by her father's bed in a swoon.

[-]

The Director and Dolores entered the pale-white ward only to be greeted by the dull monotone of a flat-lining electrocardiograph. As doctors swarmed about the elder FitzGerald, his daughter sat upon an adjacent stool, face buried in her hands.

A sallow faced doctor checked the body's pulse, before shaking her head in resignation.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ms. FitzGerald," the Director intoned.

The girl was silent for a moment before rising from her stool, legs trembling with uncertainty as she stepped towards the bed.

"Poor creature gave me everything..." She cooed, leaning down to kiss the cooling form's wrinkled forehead. "Thank you, luv."

"I'm afraid we'll need you to return to your cell for the time being," The Director interjected, signaling the guards.

"Naturally," the girl replied laconically as she was led away

The Director's eyes narrowed as he watched the doctors pull up the pure white sheet over the body's face. He was so lost in thought, that he barely noticed the words the FitzGerald girl sung softly to herself as she was led away...

"Curse and swear, Lord Kildare. Fiach will do what Fiach will dare. Now FitzWilliam, have a care. Fallen is your star, low."

 _ **Never The End**_


End file.
